


Stabby & Squishy

by lahijadelmar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Casual Sex, F/F, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-07 01:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahijadelmar/pseuds/lahijadelmar
Summary: If Varric's close natural friendship with the Inquisitor came as a surprise it was nothing compared to her suggestion that they be friends with 'benefits'. But she didn't believe in love and all the trappings it came with anyway, so there was no problem with that. Right?Also known as the story of how my Inquisitor romanced Varric in my heart and mind since the game won't oblige me. More chapters to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially this is my way of supplementing a game's story that won't let me romance my character's rightful boyfriend. I was going to make it more 'general' as a way of showing how a romance with Varric might have been worked into DA:I but it became more personal to him and my Inquisitor so...here we are. An indeterminate amount of chapters to come eventually. Uh...what else? Oh yeah, check out YT for Brian Bloom's reading of the excerpt here. Leave it on in the background so you can hear Varric's actual voice. Might add some ambiance or something idk. Also the sex isn't too graphic in this chapter, fades to black before anything too explicit happens. If that...helps? Okay that's all I got.

“Nice bow.” 

 

It was the first words she’d ever said to him properly, as the torn sky shit bloodthirsty demons out and everyone’s lives hung on the precipice. Before she’d close the rift, before he even knew her name beyond ‘that lady that came out of the fade that may or may not have done the thing’, she noticed only Bianca. Maybe he hadn’t thought much of it at the time, nor even Cassandra’s not so subtle eye roll as they both discussed the particulars of his bow and its name (THE SKY IS STILL FARTING OUT DEMONS, Cassandra must have thought...maybe in not so many words) but it was the start of everything, good and bad. 

 

He’d think  _ much _ of it later though, that little seemingly insignificant moment in time. They’d share many more of the same. 

 

* * *

 

They took to each other quickly after that and if anyone else minded how collectively annoying they both were together (they  _ did _ ) neither of them cared. Avecyn was more a savior figure to him in her ability to take everything in dead-pan stride. Everyone else around them was so...grim and though Varric knew full well that attitude was warranted under the circumstances, it was appreciated to have a lighthearted, like-minded soul that wasn’t afraid of a joke at the apocalypse’s expense. If none of them made it out of this (and they probably wouldn’t, he figured) surely it didn’t hurt to have a little fun on the way.

 

Traveling was often long and tedious so the both of them ended up making up little games to pass the time; careful timing of small pebbles thrown at Solas’ head for example. When he turned around, agitated, whoever threw the last stone won 5 points and also both of them would look away completely nonchalant. Another fun past time was taking turns moving Cassandra’s equipment at camp, just enough to send her on a short, mildly annoying search. They both gleefully dreaded the day she’d figure out it was them doing it. 

 

The comfort of this friendship grew to the point that both teasing insults and mild, intention-less flirting became commonplace, sometimes at once. 

 

“Many people don’t think Dwarves can be proportionately well-endowed,” Varric explained once on a trip in the Hinterlands. It fit the context of the conversation, probably. “But -and I don’t mean to brag- I can personally vouch for the fact that it’s possible.”

 

“Well-endowed, Varric?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “I’m thinking more like _ glorified tree stump _ .”  

 

“Oh yeah? I bet you’d like to have a seat on this  _ glorified tree stump _ , wouldn’t you, Stabby?” 

 

The nickname came natural as a result of her being a rogue and insisting on dagger play only. 

She shrugged. “Eh. Might have thought about it a time or two in a moment of severe desperation- what’s your point?” 

 

“ _ That’s _ what I thought.”

 

She playfully shoved him with her arm and he did the same, a bit harder with his shoulder, enough to make her stumble a bit. 

 

“Hairy little creep,” she snorted, pushing him once again with harder force and that might have devolved into a full on wrestling match had Dorian not broken the moment with a well-timed, 

 

“I  _ do _ wish you two would explore this unspoken attraction in a more private setting. It stopped being endearing several days ago.” 

 

That wasn’t a topic either of them had even  _ touched _ , despite all the filthy things they said to one another in the spirit of casual humor. Varric didn’t know whether to laugh uncomfortably (because  _ how ridiculous _ , right?) or try to argue back and the fact that this one stray comment left him at a loss for words should have probably clued him in to the fact Sparkler might have been on to something. But, like...no way. 

 

“ _ Of course _ your suggestion is sex,” Avecyn teased, turning her attentions to their tormentor. “That’s 90% of your thoughts, I’m sure.”

 

“ _ You’re _ one to talk.” Dorian quirked a sly eyebrow. “I hear you’ve been making your rounds of the Inquisition already. No wonder your followers are so  _ content _ .” 

 

“Play your cards right and it could be you next.” 

 

And that was the thing, at the heart of it. Varric  _ knew _ he couldn’t read more into their banter because it was her nature, she flirted with everyone (maybe  _ more _ according to rumor, but that wasn’t his business). Also because they were friends, a really special kind of friendship that kindles instantly with no prodding, one where you feel as comfortable around one another as sitting at home pantsless and there was no way he was going to compromise any of that by suggesting they add a layer of complexity. It hadn’t worked out well for him in the past, he had learned his lesson. 

 

So, any thoughts he might have had about Stabby that might have ventured from the realm of ‘really cool unexpected friend’ were quashed upon entry. That was that on that.

 

* * *

  
  


Haven was fucked. That was really the  _ only _ way anyone could describe what went down there. 

It was a flurry of panic and chaos and helplessly leaving her behind to distract Corypheus and his pet, one that would surely kill her. When days went by in the freezing mountain pass without word of her Varric was confident that was it. And yeah, he should’ve been mourning the  _ Herald _ , the fact that the only person who could close rifts was now gone and that meant the world was just as fucked as the place they had evacuated from, but he wasn’t. He mourned his  _ friend _ , which somehow, selfishly, hurt a hundred times worse than the alternative. He wasn’t sure anyone else saw her as really cool hang out buddy before ‘gal who saves the world’ so he kept these thoughts to himself.

 

But then, miracuously, she showed up again. There were no end to her miracles it seemed. Maybe their reunion warranted a hug or something, that’s probably what normal people would’ve done, but instead she greeted him with a, “Varric…! You didn’t die. Good job.” at her recovery pallet. 

 

“Better job for you, you’ve still got the world to save.” 

 

She laughed, told him to shut up and read her some of his book or something, because undoubtedly she’d had enough of hearing about her Herald-y duties. So did he.  _ Hard in Hightown _ it was then. 

 

“He hadn’t slept since he’d found the body in Hightown Market, and so far all he had was the seal of an imaginary group, a wounded arm, and a Tevinter short sword that was more rust than steel. He was past exhaustion and every breath made his head throb like he’d had too much to drink. He was definitely too old for this shit.” 

 

She squeezed his hand, laughed again and said wearily, “This is horrible, please don’t stop.” 

 

So he didn’t until he was certain she had finally fallen asleep. 

 

* * *

  
  


Skyhold wasn’t a bad upgrade though, in truth. Not that he was commending the massacre at Haven or glad it happened or anything like that, obviously if there had been another way for them to have made this trek he would’ve taken it but, well...it was what it was. The move also seemed to grant them more time and space to spend time together away from the rabble, as their company had become like an unspoken refuge from the reality of things. Occasionally Dorian would join them in her quarters for a drink and/or a game of Wicked Grace, sometimes others like Blackwall or Sera or the Ironbull.

 

Usually though it was just them, him and her, talking, laughing and getting a little drunk on ale on the rug in front of her hearth. Sometimes they’d both fall asleep there and it was, as all things between them, natural. Of course people would still talk when they’d  _ both _ emerge from the Inquisitor’s quarters the morning after but they had learned to laugh it off. 

 

One evening, however, things took a turn. If Varric had known then there was no coming back he... _ might _ have done things differently. Big  _ might _ . 

 

“So, I think I’ve reasoned it out since you refuse to tell me,” she said.

 

“What did you, in your infinite wisdom, reason out then, Stabby? Enlighten me.”

 

“Bianca. I think she’s named after...a girl. A very _ special _ girl.” 

 

Varric rolled his eyes, sighed for at least a minute and Avecyn cackled, “I KNEW IT.” 

 

“Can’t keep anything from you, can I?” He attempted a lighthearted smirk but the heart wrenching truth was kind of seeping through. 

 

She wasn’t without mercy though, softening a bit as she assured, “Oh, Squishy. I touched a nerve, I’m sorry.”

 

“Nah,” he waved off, a blatant lie. “I mean...yeah, sort of. Look, it’s nothing personal it’s just hard to talk about. But yeah, not too far off base there.” 

 

He took another generous swig of ale to give him the strength for whatever was going to follow this watershed moment. 

 

“She broke your heart,” she decided, not a question. “But you still love her. And here I thought you were somehow impervious to that sort of thing.” 

 

“Well, sure. I might be a Dwarf but I’m  _ not _ made of stone.”

 

She raised an eyebrow and smirked knowingly in that characteristic way of hers, but there was something different here now. Maybe it was the way the fire played on her olive skin or the unusual color and glint of her eyes. It was hard to put a finger on the whole thing. 

 

“Well... _ I _ am. Or might as well be. I don’t believe in love for that very reason. Too messy, too weird. Makes one do crazy things like name a weapon after their ex.”

 

He snorted a bit into his ale, both in humorous surprise at her jab and the revelation of her beliefs. 

 

“You don’t  _ believe _ in it? It’s more real than the ‘sent by Andraste’ stuff, surely. People love each other, you can’t deny that.” 

“I’m not saying it doesn’t happen or doesn’t exist or something. I’m saying I personally don’t believe in it, like...I don’t do it. I don’t go there. Sure, love happens, but from what I’ve seen it always goes away. Or never exists. Or just gets one-sided. I don’t know. Just not for me, I guess. I’ll stick with casual flings.” 

 

“It’s...not usually a choice,” he felt compelled to mention. “People like us don’t  _ ask  _ to be in love, it just happens. And it usually hurts.” 

 

“I have a theory,” she said, something odd to her voice now as she shifted closer to him. “People  _ fall in love _ because they crave closeness, physical comfort. Sex. Sometimes with one person in particular. That hunger becomes a societal compulsion for an exclusive relationship, then usually misery. If not immediately, then later on.”

 

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this or whether or not he could take her seriously. “That’s quite a hypothesis you’ve got there.” 

 

She took the tankard he’d been nursing and set it down beside him, opposite her, causing her to lean over him slightly. 

 

“Want to test it with me? See what you think?”

 

He had to blink a couple times and shake his head to try to make sense of what was happening here. 

 

“Wait...what are you suggesting?” 

 

“Come on, you’re not  _ that _ obtuse,” she commended, her hand now cradling his jaw and leaving little room for doubt. “But for the sake of the moment I’ll pretend you are. I’m suggesting we have casual sex. You and me, right now.” 

 

He shuddered out a disbelieving laugh, reluctantly pulling her hand away as he did so, trying not to notice how the firelight accentuated the swell of her breasts. 

 

“I...don’t know. I’ve done that sort of thing before. You want to talk about messy and complicated-” 

 

“But it’s  _ not _ ,” she assured. “It doesn’t have to be. I’ve done it before too, with friends. Close friends. Not so close friends.  It’s not a big deal, it scratches an itch. What are friends for if not for getting each other’s rocks off?” 

 

“I don’t know,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Talking? Supporting each other?” His morbid curiosity got the better of him and he sort of blurted out, “How...many of our friends have you slept with already?” 

She laughed in her throat. “Let’s see...Ironbull and I occasionally fool around. I went down on Sera once, that was fun.” 

 

His eyes widened, not sure why that surprised or intrigued him in any way. Probably if this hadn’t been preceded by an offer for  _ them _ to do it too it wouldn’t have really mattered to him, but the fact that she could do all that and still maintain normal friendships (as far as he could tell) was sort of...encouraging. This had to have been the ale talking. 

 

“Just like that, huh?” An obviously rhetorical question.

 

He still had his concerns of course, but with her encouragement it occurred to him that maybe it  _ didn’t _ have to be a big deal. Maybe it could open up some new awesome level of trust in their friendship he hadn’t known before. Right now, with his defenses about null, it seemed like a better idea than it probably was. 

 

“Alright, well...should we set some ground rules or something?” 

 

“If you like, though it seems to me we understand each other. We try it out, if you like it we can keep it up, if you don’t you can make fun of me forever about how bad I am in the sack. Win-win, right?” 

 

He shrugged with a resigned laugh because what else was there to say or do? Uncharted territory, to be sure, but thankfully she had her methods of seamless transition. Crouching down a bit more she undid his laces and took him out, stroking him to full standing attention before taking him in her mouth. 

 

His hand carded through her hair and all reservations about this flew out of his head as if they’d never been there to begin with. 

  
“ _ Shit _ …” he cursed through gritted teeth, both a sign of certain pleasure and a subconscious, last minute exclamation because what the fuck had they gotten themselves into? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bianca (not the crossbow) finally enters the picture and things get weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I farted out after playing more of this run through, half of it done while I was high so despite proofreading as best I could I can't promise War and Peace here, people. It's all fun. And, of course, no Varric romance story would be complete without dealing with the Bianca problem. This chapter isn't super pro-Bianca as you might have guessed, but it's not super slanderous either. Did I also mention earlier I've only ever played DA:I? I have a rough idea of what went on in DA2 etc, but if there are gaps in the lore or whatever now you know why. That's it, I think. At least one more chapter to come, maybe more. We'll see. ALSO this chapter is pretty much completely SFW, save for some sexy mentions. Again, if that matters. Enjoy my pic of my cuties below.

 

 

At first things were fine- well _more_ than fine, actually. Bedding down one of his closest friends on a regular basis wasn’t something he would’ve prescribed for himself prior to all this, but it had proven to be just the tonic. If anything could’ve increased their bond, the fun and relaxation of their time together it was, apparently, getting naked and going to town on each other when their mood suited. Their day-to-day banter hadn’t changed, still the same teasing insults and light flirting, but in the context of their ‘private time’ they were very complimentary. She was obsessed with his chest for instance, always running her hands over his pecs and through his chest hair and telling him how sexy it was. He’d always been more of an ass man and she had that to spare, so he’d be sure to grab and pinch and even occasionally spank when she bid him.

 

Kissing was part of it too, of course, but just laying up some evenings together and lazily making out came later. He supposed they were doing everything in reverse, which was new for him, but in a strange way it worked.

 

Of course Bianca had crossed his mind through this more than once. They had never really established whether or not what they had was an exclusive thing (she was _married_ , after all so maybe not) or if they even _had_ enough of a thing to be worried about but still, Varric made sure to leave Avecyn out of his letters to her apart from cursory mention of the ‘the Inquisitor’ in relation to a bigger picture. He felt it important Bianca thought she was just that, some lofty leader figure he hadn’t a whole lot to do with- definitely not one of his best friends, absolutely not someone he shacked up with.

 

Maybe in part because his arrangement with Avecyn was one of things that made his arrangement with Bianca easier to deal with. Maybe it wasn’t right to keep her out of the loop but...he just didn’t want to go there. Not yet, anyway.

 

He also didn’t want to compromise the friends-with-benefits thing. He _needed_ Avecyn to hold and kiss him gently after the experience with Adamant and the Fade more than he thought he would. They had come dangerously close to losing Hawke and that, on top of all the other fucked up shit they saw, made him realize just how deep he had gotten. Things were only going to get worse, only that much he was sure of.

 

When they held each other, however, nothing existed but her, him and the fire roaring in the hearth.

* * *

 

But then one day (because _of course_ ) Bianca showed up at Skyhold. She had important information about a lead to the red lyrium source but Varric had a hard time focusing on that against trying to keep her and Avecyn from crossing paths. _That_ worked for all of an hour.

 

“So...are you going to introduce me to your friend, Squishy?”

 

That was how she had announced her presence behind the both of them in the pub. Bianca raised an eyebrow at the nickname but said nothing else. She would later though for sure.

 

“Oh, Inquisitor…!” he stumbled, knowing full-well Avecyn would _also_ have something to say about the suspicious use of the formal name. “This is-”

 

“Bianca Davri,” she finished for him, smiling convincingly and shaking Avecyn’s hand. Avecyn’s eyebrows rose and she smirked, mischievous. Varric did his best to give her the ‘don’t you dare say anything’ look in a way that Bianca wouldn’t notice. Being stuck between two of the most perceptive women in Thedas was officially _not_ his idea of a good time.

 

“ _Bianca_ !” she exclaimed in gleeful realization. “What a beautiful name. I _know_ Varric’s fond of it.”

 

He may or may not mouthed out to her to ‘stop’.

 

“Well, it’s a common name,” Bianca conceded. “Among my people anyway.”

 

“Hmm. Is it common among crossbows too, or is that just unique to-”

 

“So,” Varric coughed loudly, eager to change the subject as fast as possible. “It seems Bianca has a lead.”

 

The effort was successful at getting the conversation back on track but he didn’t fail to notice how the two women surveyed each other, him, and allowed the gears to turn in their heads about what was going on here. He was certain they’d both bring their findings to him in due time and to say he wasn’t looking forward to that was the understatement of the century.

 

Sure enough Bianca launched into him the moment the conversation was over and Avecyn was fully out of earshot.

 

“ _Squishy_?” she questioned.

 

“Oh...yeah, that. The Inquisitor likes making up nicknames for people, puts her on an informal basis with us peons, you know how it is.”

 

He knew he was an idiot for even attempting to lie to her, as if that would’ve _ever_ worked, and the shake of her head told him as much.

 

“It’s...not a big deal?” she assured him, though it did little to help. “You’re obviously friends. I just didn’t realize you two were...close, you don’t talk about her very much.”

 

“Well...as you say, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t want to brag and namedrop.”

 

She still obviously wasn’t buying it but it was enough to veer her off the inquiries. For the time being, anyway.

* * *

 

It was after a game of Wicked Grace with their friends that Avecyn brought on her own onslaught of Bianca-inspired questions. Varric thought it was suspicious she had waited so long, after many days and now many drinks and Cullen disrobing completely, but here they were.

 

“So, I finally meet the infamous _Crossbow_ Bianca.” She had leaned back in her seat with a shit-eating grin, keen to make a meal of this.

 

“Are you calling her that to differentiate from the crossbow? Might get confusing.”

“What should I call her instead? I don’t know her well enough to make up a good nickname. Stumpy and Shorty come to mind but I feel that’s probably offensive.”

 

“Yeah,” Varric snorted. “Not super creative either.”

 

She took another sip of ale (not that she needed it at this point) and then asked, “So are you two...together?”

 

He sighed, knowing this question was coming but still not looking forward to the inevitable result.

 

“I don’t know. Define _together_. We meet up every now and then, risking death on my part from her family. She’s married, so there’s that…”

 

“Varric!” she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth. “That’s naughty. How _dare_ you cavort about with a _married_ woman. That’s beneath even me.”

 

This didn’t really offend any delicate sensibilities, as was clear from how she giggled through her scolding.

 

“It was arranged!” he argued, as if that made a difference. “Anyway, the short answer is...I don’t know. I mean, yeah, we have a history but...it’s different now.”

 

Avecyn titled her leg up and ran her foot over his shin (which was barely perceptible through his boots) as she asked, “Does she know about _us_?”

 

He looked her square in the eye as he answered, “You _know_ she does.”

 

Avecyn grinned again and nodded. “Yes, she knows more than she lets on. What I couldn’t reason out, however, was whether or not she minds.”

 

“ _That_ I couldn’t tell you,” The honest truth. “But I think she knows she doesn’t have room to complain. Anyway...it’s not really about her, is it? It’s about you and me.”

 

She seemed pleased with this answer and Varric found himself once again grateful that things between them were so easy. Maybe it had been his past experiences that made him fearful she’d make this more difficult than it needed to be- but he knew her better than that, didn’t he?

 

“Good,” she said, her eyes glinting in that tell-tale way. “Because I was hoping we could play a private round. Preferably one where clothes come off. I’ll tell you now, I intend to lose.”

 

She said this as she prematurely undid the clasps of her doublet.

 

“I hope we _both_ do,” he said with a smirk, following suit on his own.

 

“I’M STILL HERE,” came Sera’s inebriated screech, quite unexpectedly from underneath the table. “But don’t hold off on my behalf, just pretend I’m invisible. Want to see where this is going.”

 

Avecyn and Varric exchanged looks for moment, debating unspoken whether or not they should kick her out, then shrugged and continued on with their game.

 

* * *

 

They met up with Bianca at Valammar as planned and things went, well...not really bad or good at first just _weird_ . The two women ended up chatting more than he did with either of them, often joking about _him_ to which he felt compelled to remind them, “I’m _right_ here, you know”. It had been his goal for a long time to keep these two worlds from colliding and he supposed his concern had been it’d be dramatic and uncomfortably tension-filled. He almost wished that had been the case; the two of them becoming friends was somehow worse.

 

To her credit though Avecyn kept her distance when Bianca imposed herself, flirtatiously reminding him of their past and inviting him to come visit her in Val Royeaux. Varric didn’t normally mind this attention but this time wondered if it wasn’t, at least in some part, an attempt to establish herself against whatever she suspected he had going on with the Inquisitor. This was new territory after all, he didn’t know how Bianca felt about ‘sharing’ him.

 

The shit eventually hit the fan when Bianca admitted to leaking the location of the Thaig, to which Avecyn responded by rightfully calling her an idiot.

“It’s as right as we can make it!” Bianca argued and that led to a fight between her and him to which Avecyn had to break up with an irritated, “Get a room, you two.”

 

They left after that because the job was done, but not before he heard Bianca say under her breath to Avecyn, “Get him killed, and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs Inquisitor.”

 

Never without a well-timed response Avecyn chuckled and replied, “I like you, Bianca. But break his heart again and _I’ll_ snap _you_ in half like a twig.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was a shit show.” She didn’t need to tell _him_ that. “Also would have been completely unnecessary had _someone_ kept her mouth shut. Honestly, what was she thinking? I pinned her as a lot smarter than that.”

 

She didn’t need to tell him that either.  

 

“Yeah, well. What’s done is done.” He plopped down his traveling gear in the corner of her quarters with less care than he would’ve used otherwise. Somehow nothing else seemed to matter that much. “I’m glad to have answers but...shit. The second she showed up here I knew. I just...I let this mess happen. I gave her the thaig. And I’m not good at dealing with shit like this.”

 

“Stop blaming yourself,” Avecyn scoffed, pulling off her boots and lounging on the chaise. Her tone gave little room for arguing otherwise. “ _She_ screwed up and then didn’t think to tell us until she’d tricked us into cleaning up the mess for her.”

 

It was the truth, but maybe one he didn’t want to believe anymore than he wanted to debate. He sat down in front of the fire and massaged his temples in frustration.

 

“Why deflect? Why _still_ defend her?”

 

He sighed. “You _know_ why.”  

 

“Ugh, Maker…” she snorted in disgust. “This is getting ridiculous. Look, I get it, you’re in love. I don’t call you _Squishy_ for nothing. But how much longer are you going to string this along? There’s no future here. She comes to you when it’s convenient for her and, now, apparently, I find out that she lies to you too. What _else_ has she been lying about?”  

 

“You think all this hasn’t crossed my mind before?” he snapped back. “I’m not an idiot.”

 

Avecyn rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re _acting_ like one. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but-...oh fuck it, yes I am. You need to cut her off.”

 

“Oh, I get it. We fool around sometimes and that makes you think you can order me around,” he challenged, knowing it was a stupid, misguided thing to say before it even fell out of his mouth but he was too angry to use any filter. “I didn’t think that was the nature of our _arrangement_.”

 

She glared daggers at him. “This isn’t about us. I’m talking to you as a _friend_ concerned for your own well being and that of the Inquisition. Even if she wasn’t compromising the safety of, y’know, the _entire fucking world_ she’s not being fair to you. She’s not trustworthy and I don’t feel comfortable with you feeding her information.”

 

“Then maybe my being here at all is a mistake. If Cassandra hadn’t dragged me here I’d still be in Kirkwall, pretending none of this was happening. Maybe that’s where _I_ belong.”

 

Avecyn stood up, still obviously angry but there was a hint of desperation here now too, as if she knew if she didn’t do something he might actually make good on his threat. That concern wasn’t misplaced.

 

“Now you’re _really_ being dumb. You’ve worked as hard as any of us to stop Corypheus.”

 

“According to _you_ all I’ve done is fuck shit up with Bianca.” And that was a foolish thing for him to say too because she hadn’t accused him of that outright but, well...blind anger. “Maybe _you_ can shuck off any possibility of loving someone else like a dirty cloak or something but, _sorry_ , I’m not that strong.”

 

He made to leave and she must have realized shit had just gotten real. Her attempt to rally back at him was yelled out in rather broken tone.

 

“So that’s it, you’re just going to _go_? To hell with all of us and the world because you can’t deal with difficult feelings?”

 

He could’ve left then and he would, eventually, but before doing so he turned to her at the threshold and coughed out a solemn laugh.

 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize someone for how they deal with their feelings, _Inquisitor_. At least I don’t pretend I don’t have them.”

* * *

 

He had every intention to leave, just as he’d been saying he always would. Not because he was like ‘fuck the world’ or anything like that, but because if he had any doubts about his ability to actually help with this whole thing Avecyn had confirmed them. Hadn’t she guessed that he had _tried_ to end things with Bianca before? Oh Maker, so _many_ times, but as she had helpfully pointed out he was too weak, too stupid, whatever. No one like that had any place among a group of people with such an important mission. He might leak more info, after all, and if Corypheus’ one-up on the competition was his bullshit affair that would send him into an endless spiral of depression forever, more so than had already claimed him, then it was time for him to go. That is, if everyone didn’t die, which they would.

 

Anyway. He was fully _prepared_ to leave but a little drama with Cole managed to keep him tethered. Varric didn’t know what it was about that kid that made his heart melt, maybe because everyone else was so mean and dismissive, maybe it was his helpless naivete and struggle, maybe because he saw something more human than the demon everyone wanted to write him off as. Whatever the reason when he saw him struggling with Solas and Avecyn he couldn’t do anything but stop to help.

 

“He isn’t one of your weird Fade experiments,” Avecyn argued, standing protectively in front of Cole. She had all but adopted him as her honorary son so it made sense she was here too, arguing her case. Varric wouldn’t have known it was going on if he hadn’t heard her yelling from the outside of Skyhold. “He’s _just_ a kid.”  

 

“He’s not a child, he is a _spirit_ ,” Solas countered. “To deny that would be to deny his very nature. Is that really what’s best for him?”

 

“What’s going on here?” Varric asked, also announcing his presence in the same breath. He didn’t really need to ask, having gathered most of it from the exchange that echoed all around Thedas.

 

Avecyn looked surprised, maybe even pleased to see him still around, but she didn’t change the subject from the concern at hand. She and Solas barked over each other with different perspectives on the matter. Cole interrupted them with his own version of why the amulet didn’t work- “Something’s catching,” he said.

 

“Where?” Avecyn asked, softening as she usually did around Cole, more than Varric ever saw her do in any other situation. “Where is it catching? We’ll find it and we’ll fix it.”

 

Varric did his best to take Solas aside and explain the particulars of the situation. He and Avecyn were at least of the same mind when it came to Cole- intentionally or not, they had become something like adoptive parents. Solas wasn’t interested but Varric also didn’t care. This wasn’t about preserving some weird hobby for _him_ , this was about Cole and what he needed.

 

“He wants you along with us while he figures this out,” Varric said at the end of a fruitless attempt to convince him. “I get that it’s not the result you wanted, but it’s what he needs. And he cares about you, maybe even looks up to you. It would mean a lot to him.”  

 

Solas finally caved. Avecyn gave Varric a cursory nod of thanks before putting her arm around Cole.

 

* * *

 

Having dealt with the ‘catching’ that was a templar who had jailed and forgotten him, Cole was now free to heal and become more himself, just as he’d been doing for everyone else. Varric supposed it was the least they could do. The whole thing was also one of the only binds still keeping him and Avecyn anywhere near each other.

 

“The pain is good,” she explained to him later at Skyhold, on the battlements where he usually went to get peace and quiet. She held his hand and stroked his back, tactile and motherly as she was wont to be. “I know it’s unpleasant, but pain helps us grow. It’ll help you become who you need and want to be.”

 

Varric stood a safe distance away, but still close enough to be present for the kid’s sake.

 

“Not all pain is good,” Cole said after a time of probable contemplation. “Mine is necessary; yours is because of the pride you refuse to contend with.”

 

Avecyn backed off a bit in shock. “I don’t-...what do you mean…?”

 

Cole pulled away and stood up. “Varric’s going to leave.”

 

“Kid…-”

 

“No, I _know_ you are! I may not be...the same, but I know there’s something wrong between the two of you. Something’s catching. You need each other and the Inquisition needs you both, but I feel it’s likely neither of you will do anything about it. I wish I could still help.”

 

Avecyn reached out to him in vain, but he was already stomping down the stairs.

 

“Leave then, if that’s easier,” he tossed over his shoulder, mostly at Varric but kind of at both of them. “I’ll deal with my pain on my own.”

 

Varric exhaled in defeat and leaned against the stone beside where she sat. She did nothing to stop him.

 

“Well, if _Cole_ thinks we have a problem with an easy solution it’d be stupid not to listen.” He was getting a little tired of the whole thing too, realizing that maybe there was a reason he hadn’t just given up and left the night he first announced his intentions. “I’m just...not good at this sort of thing. Avoidance has always been my go-to...a lot less scary than having to suss through whatever complicated shit I’m dealing with.”

 

He suspected Avecyn might have held onto her anger with him longer if this wasn’t affecting Cole so directly, but now even she seemed to be giving up the pointless fight.

 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” she admitted. “I should’ve told you that then.”

 

It meant a lot to him that she’d say that, even if it came later than was due.

 

“Yeah well…” he shifted his feet in discomfort because it never got any easier, no matter how much he cared for and trusted the person he was talking to. “I said a lot of stupid shit that night. I don’t blame you for being too pissed with me to do anything else.”

 

A silence drifted between them, maybe because neither of them knew how to navigate the rest of this minefield, but he eventually broke it by saying, “I think you’re right about Bianca. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and move on.”

 

She scoffed out a small laugh. “The time to have done that was a long time ago, but it’s never too late to set things right.”

 

It was a hard truth to hear and swallow but he knew she had a good point.

 

“Bianca’s just...I don’t know. She’s like an addiction I can’t ever seem to curb. I know nothing’s ever going to progress from this point, I’ve known that for years, but I guess when you’re in love with someone you kind of lose your head.”

 

“There’s that,” she agreed. “And maybe I’m not an expert here, but I always figured if you loved someone, _really_ loved them, you let them go if it’s what’s best. That would’ve been best, but she never did. At the risk of you getting mad at me again it needs to be said; she doesn’t love you, not like you love her. That’s not your fault, but you deserve better...even if _better_ means being on your own.”

 

He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry, so he stopped somewhere in between both of those things. He did make sure to blink away anything noticeable, still not comfortable openly weeping in front of anyone- even her.

 

“You’re right. It’s the right thing to do. So why does it hurt so much?”

 

“That’s usually how these things go.” She was deadpan as ever, but she still gently touched his shoulder as if to communicate that she understood. “Does it need to be in person?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I’ll fall back on old habits. It seems I’ve got yet another letter to write.”

He moved to go start on that, easily the hardest one he’d ever have to write, but she took his hand before he left. They stayed there a moment, he allowed himself to rub his thumb over her knuckles. She smiled and nodded to him and that was that.

 

It was all he needed to find the strength to do what he had to.

 

* * *

 

The reply went a long time from arriving. Varric was simultaneously glad for that, sad, and also dreading the letter that might come. He knew ending things with someone via post after many years was not the most gallant of methods, but as he had said, doing things face to face wouldn’t have worked. He had attempted the same thing with Bianca many times and failed just as much; it always ended with them making love and him apologizing and taking everything back. There was too much at stake now.

 

Finally the letter came. Varric let it sit on its own for about a day before he finally read it. There was a lot to digest, weed through and try to understand, but the point of it all and the sentiment that really fucked him up read;

 

“ _You can try to make it about our past, the Inquisition, my mistake- whatever. At the end of the day you were never serious about this until Avecyn came into the picture. If there were ever a real barrier that could really keep us apart, it’s not assassins or my family’s will or yours or mine- it’s her. For whatever she means to you I can only hope her intentions are good (for your sake and the world’s) and that she only has your best interests at heart. Maybe she knows what that is better than me. Who am I to say? I’m selfish. In any case, don’t screw it up.”_

 

He knew full-well what she was implying and though it was easy to deny it and toss that possibility to the wayside he figured it deserved some contemplation. He was doing the whole ‘facing his issues head on’ thing now anyway, right?

 

Yeah, this was going to suck.

 

* * *

 

Maybe with anyone else the request that he come with her to the ball at the Winter Palace would’ve been flatly turned down, but it was _Avecyn_ asking. He could’ve chalked that up to her being the Inquisitor and how, exactly, does one tell the world’s savior he’s not going to help deflect an assassination attempt on the Empress because he ‘doesn’t do fancy parties’? So yeah, that _was_ a factor, but he had to own now that maybe more went into it than a sense of duty.

 

When he found himself hiding away from members of the Merchants Guild rather than leaving entirely he knew that _must_ have been the case. Duty alone, even to the future of the world, wouldn’t have been enough to help him risk _that_ kind of immediate shitstorm.

 

Thankfully the worst of the whole thing was having to slice up Venatori in the courtyard and face off with a crazed, bloodthirsty duchess. _That_ kind of bullshit he could handle. Empress Celene was kept safely in place and that was that. All was well once again...until it wouldn’t be, of course.

 

For now he had his own personal battle to fight, one that he’d been losing at his entire life. Could it be that Avecyn was the catalyst that could make him actually...deal with his shit? Likely. That was enough to prompt him to at least try to face it head on.

 

He found her out on the balcony when all was said done. She gave him an exhausted smile when he approached her.

 

“Some party, huh? If I _ever_ needed a drink…” she joked, though he was sure she could’ve used one. He could’ve too.

 

“To be fair, it made the whole thing pretty exciting. That’s more than I can say of similar events I’ve been dragged to.”

 

They shared a laugh and sat in companionable silence for a beat, sharing the view of the night-bathed mountains and star-lit sky. The storm clouds that had moved in earlier seemed to have, fittingly, passed on in favor of clear skies. It was almost romantic- in the traditional sense of the word.

 

“I wrote Bianca. She replied.”

 

Avecyn turned a fraction to him, quiet for a moment in respect of the situation’s gravity.

 

“...how’d it go?”

 

“It’s over,” he replied, a simple enough result but saying it outloud hurt worse than he thought it would. “After all those years and failed attempts. All it took was a letter. Seems like a solution that should’ve occurred to me a long time ago.”

 

Another beat of silence passed; she was being respectful and giving him distance to talk without witty comebacks and, for once, he appreciated that.

 

“She had a theory,” he said, after a quick back and forth deliberation of whether or not he should mention it. “And I think she might be onto something.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“She thinks I wasn’t ever serious about doing it until you came into the picture. Given my half-assed efforts over the years that’s a hard one to argue with.”

 

Avecyn straightened up a bit and he saw her grip the railing of the balcony just a fraction tighter. He wasn’t sure if the fact that she was as nervous as him to talk about this was encouraging or terrifying.

 

“The conflict-avoider in me wants to say that’s because our friendship is special. And maybe that’s all it is. Maybe that’s where we should leave it.”

 

“Is what _you’d_ prefer?”  

 

He sighed out a laugh, felt his palms getting clammy in his gloves which...wasn’t a pleasant sensation, needless to say.

 

“I...don’t know. I guess I figure there’s enough going on already without having to contend with all that.”

 

She looked back behind them at the scene of the ball where so many glittering nobles were dancing and laughing, as if the shit _hadn’t_ just hit the fan a moment prior. He followed her gaze, wondering what she was thinking.

 

“Wanna dance?” she asked finally, the absolute last thing he expected her to say. “Out here, I mean. Would rather not have to...do all of _that_ again.”

 

He was of a similar mind, grateful she was just as loathe to keep playing ‘the game’ longer than necessary. But _dancing_?

 

“I can’t promise much,” he warned, offering her his hand. Maybe there was nothing he could deny her after all.

 

“Neither can I,” she smirked, and they came together to attempt something of the waltz the others were doing and then something of their own thing as well. It didn’t really matter out here where no one could see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if things needed to be complicated further, Avecyn gets a chorus of a thousand voices rattling around in her head that won't seem to shut up. Except when Varric's around...for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, where to begin? FIRST OF ALL, I need to reiterate that I am far from a Dragon Age lore expert. I took some artistic liberties in here for the sake of my own selfish plot, so if stuff happens in this chapter that isn't consistent with something in DA canon...oh well, I guess. You can point it out to me if it brings you some pleasure but I honestly, don't...como se dice...care? Like, no offense. I'd rather hear squeals about how cute the characters are or something more specific to the actual story then "UHM THAT'S NOT ACCURATE". I know, Helen. I know. It's okay. It just needed to happen so allow me to bend the rules a little. SORRY IF THAT'S A HARSH OPENING but I just wanted to get that out. How are you all doing though? Good? Enjoying the story? There's a bit -more- in this one, I think, then the others...but there's yet more to come. If I can ever level up enough to get on with the DLC content. Anyway. Enjoy, love ya. Thanks for the awesome feedback so far! I'm having fun.

_ Friends _ . Maybe comrades on the battlefield too, if they were getting technical. That’s where they stood and Varric knew it was the right thing, even if things got... _ confusing _ sometimes. Even if either of them were remotely willing there wasn’t time to sort through their respective personal messes long enough to figure out if  _ just friends _ was where they really belonged, not even long enough to have a discussion about the physical element. There was no downtime now, just plotting and planning and Corypheus and the fate of the world resting in their hands. Where could  _ anything _ else fall in hodgepodge like that?

 

Sometimes the thought would occur to him that life was short, especially now when evil was advancing and quite possibly too the last fate of the world, and maybe that alone should’ve given him pause to think, really _ think  _ about where his feelings stood. 

 

But at the heart of things Corypheus and the end of the world and blah blah were all just convenient excuses for avoiding what he feared even more. Besides, the last thing she needed right now was a distraction. 

 

He’d follow her anywhere (as had been exhibited) as Inquisition member, as a friend, as a comrade on the battlefield, etc. That would suffice for now, as they descended into the Arbor Wilds to figure out something with a mirror…? Corypheus wanting a mirror? Varric could only think of ways to turn that into a joke at Dorian’s expense.

 

* * *

  
  
  


She wasn’t sure how she felt about Morrigan on a good day, much less allowing her to accompany them on this advance in the Wilds. I mean yes,  _ obviously _ she was as attractive as anything and under different circumstances Avecyn would be trying to woo her into sneaking off for some private fun, but this was  _ business _ . More than business. World-saving business. As with most things thus far she had little choice but to let the hot, dubious witch infiltrate her space and help them. Still, her obsession with this mirror was...troubling. 

 

Then again, she supposed, if she got to take a turn in Morrigan’s body for a day she’d probably want a mirror to admire herself in too. NEVERTHELESS. BUSINESS. 

 

Fighting their way through demons and lyrium-soaked Templars was easy enough, all in a day’s work. Avecyn wondered if she should be grateful that this was so far something of a breeze or fearful that the worst of Corypheus’ onslaught was yet to come. Turns out it was the last of these two.

 

That Samson templar asshole put up a good fight when finally confronted, but it was all over when he chose to slice and stab Varric up the side with a lyrium shard. Avecyn had never felt rage like that; Corypheus threatening to swallow the world whole seemed like nothing more than a cruel prank in comparison. She came at him in a flurry of daggers and teeth and sheer adrenaline-induced strength, managing to knock his big ass to the ground and attacking him long after he had lost in ability to fight back. 

 

“He’s done, it’s over!” Dorian and Blackwall both repeated, trying to pry her off, still kicking and screaming. “That’s enough!” 

 

It wasn’t enough, it would  _ never _ be enough, not until she had sliced him to ribbons and made him feel just a fraction of the pain  _ he _ had caused, but running to Varric’s side to take stock of his wound was a sufficient distraction.

 

“Bastard got me pretty good then?” he joked, coughing and sputtering a bit as she took his hand and rested his head in the crook of her arm. “Fucking lyrium shard of all things.”

 

“We have to get him back to Skyhold!” Avecyn announced to the rest of the group, her eyes burning with tears of rage. “ _ Now! _ ”  

 

Neither Blackwall nor Dorian knew what to say to bring her back to the grim reality of the situation, but Morrigan was not hindered by that same apprehension. 

 

“Now is not the time to lose your head Inquisitor,” she said flatly. “Corypheus advances on the Well while we tarry.” 

 

“ _ Fuck _ you and your Well!”  

 

Dorian and Blackwall backed away a bit, neither sure how to handle their friend’s hysterics nor of what Morrigan would do in the face of such an insult. Avecyn didn’t seem to care either way.

 

“Insult me if it brings you some comfort,” Morrigan allowed with the slightest of grimaces. “Your duty is to Thedas, not the life of one friend...the fate of which, it brings me no pleasure to say, is most certainly sealed.” 

 

“I think it brought you a little pleasure,” Varric scoffed, but then he softened and squeezed Avecyn’s hand. “She’s right though. We’ve got to press on.” 

 

Abelas reappeared again, claiming he would destroy the Well before it could be sullied. Morrigan cried out and followed him as a raven for this threat; Avecyn was spurred only by the hope that he might be able to help. She hoisted Varric up on her shoulders with a strength no one present knew she had (and under normal circumstances she probably wouldn’t have had anyway) and chased after both of them. Dorian and Blackwall followed because what else could they do, really?

* * *

  
  
  


He had  _ hoped _ she would just leave him there; that would’ve been the logical, reasonable thing to do but Varric also knew Corypheus would willingly stand down to the Inquisition before Avecyn ever thought along those lines. There wasn’t time to convince her otherwise, nor wonder about her ability to pick him up like a hunted animal carcass. He was done for anyway, none of this mattered. 

 

Fucking lyrium,  _ of course _ it was. He’d have to tell Andraste she had an odd sense of humor when he saw her. 

 

Morrigan had Abelas backed into a corner by the time they arrived, the Well of eternal knowledge or whatever the hell just sitting behind them, ripe for the taking. It might as well have been any run of the mill pool of water for all Avecyn gave a shit. 

 

“Help him,  _ please _ ,” she begged, laying him carefully at the Elf Sentinel’s feet. “Please tell me you can do something.” 

 

Abelas, for all of  _ his _ wisdom and insight, looked from her to Morrigan to him to the party, obviously trying to reason out what the hell was going on. 

 

“I thought, like the witch, you had come for the Well-” he began to say.

 

“Destroy it,” Avecyn barked. “Or don’t. I don’t care. If I can ask anything else of you, please,  _ please _ help him. If it’s within your power,  _ please _ …!”

 

She was sobbing and begging now, to the point that no one could think of a thing to say apart from one well-timed scoff from Morrigan that everyone else ignored. Abelas’ confusion morphed into what Varric interpreted to be intrigue and he stared at them only a moment before leaning down and touching the wound. He muttered something in Elvish, the rest of the present Sentinels joining him in this chant. 

 

And then some weird light magic stuff happened, the air around them swelled and...it was gone. The wound, the lyrium, everything. 

 

“That...actually worked,” he marveled- a statement of the obvious but no less necessary to establishing that, yeah, that  _ actually worked _ . 

 

Avecyn breathed a long, slow sigh of relief and rested her head against his. 

 

“Thank you,” she said to Abelas, though it was into Varric’s skin as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you so much.” 

 

He reached up weakly to stroke her hair in attempt to comfort; he wished she hadn’t fretted so much over him but was selfish enough to be glad she did. 

 

“Hey Crazy, it’s over. It’s okay.” 

 

“Yes well,” Morrigan coughed, impatient. “That’s all very touching but I  _ suggest _ we make a decision about the Well before Corypheus arrives.” 

 

Avecyn looked up at Abelas with tear-stained eyes. “You’ve done so much for us already...but the Well could help the Inquisition. It could potentially save or break the world. Maybe losing it entirely isn’t better than sacrificing it to Corypheus? 

 

Abelas waved a hand, dismissive. “It is not my permission to grant. However, if it’s my  _ opinion _ you’re seeking...I believe the knowledge of the Well would be in worthy hands to one who protects the lives of others so direly.”

 

Morrigan snorted again. “Sorely needed too, perhaps.” 

 

Avecyn looked down to Varric, apprehensive. He coughed out a chuckle, healed, but still recovering. 

 

“Don’t look at me. I’ve been lyrium sick, remember? I barely know what’s going on.” 

 

She pressed another kiss to his forehead, then bid Dorian and Blackwall to come replace her in supporting him. They did, but their arms weren’t nearly as easy to melt into, strong and manly though they may have been. 

 

He watched her ascend to the Well, walking past a stricken Morrigan, and then he blacked out.

* * *

  
  
  


Her eyes fluttered open and she wondered where/when she was for a fraction of a moment before her vision cleared and she recognized the ceiling of her room in Skyhold. She could hear voices all around her, some loud, some in a whisper, and figuring it was her friends she sat up and clutched her throbbing head. 

 

“Could...you guys keep it down? Just a tad?” 

 

But when she looked again there was only Varric sitting at her desk, having lept up from whatever he’d been working on. The voices promptly ceased. 

 

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, coming to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. Avecyn was still reeling. 

 

“Did I...do the thing?” 

 

Varric laughed. “Oh, you did quite a  _ few _ things. Coming in and out of consciousness to tell everyone how ‘pretty’ they were, for one, though I suspect that’s not what you’re asking about.” 

 

She touched his side with care, confirming that the wound had indeed been healed or, better yet, had never existed at all. 

 

“Ah, that.” He unbuttoned and pushed back the necessary fabric to show her the faintest scar running up his ribs. “Stings a little, but not nearly as bad as it would’ve been.” 

 

She touched said scar, running her fingers over the barely perceptible indention, remembering in full vivid detail how frightened she had been for him. 

 

“We came very close-…” she attempted, but couldn’t bring herself to even finish that thought.

 

He caught her eyes for a brief moment, but maybe remembering himself and their situation he cleared his throat and buttoned himself up once again. 

 

“Well, all’s well that ends  _ well _ .” Laughing at his own joke, “Which you drank from, in case you don’t remember. How’s all that going, by the way? Is it just like a constant peanut gallery up there or-?” 

 

“I actually...don’t hear anything now. When I woke up it was so loud, I thought everyone was in here…”

 

He shrugged. “And yet, you just got me. Don’t worry though, there’s been plenty Stabby-Centric discussion at all corners of Skyhold. Speaking of which, you’d better go unwad some of those small clothes as soon as you’re feeling up to it.” 

 

She knew he had a point, everyone would be fretting over the wellbeing of the world’s savior after the Well stunt. She attempted to push herself up but was thwarted by Varric’s gentle hand on her shoulder, him pulling the covers back up to her chin. 

 

“Don’t rush it,” he coaxed. “You just swallowed thousands of years of knowledge. They can sweat it out a little longer.”

 

She took his hand before he could leave her to rest. “Squishy...I’m glad you’re here.”  She meant it both about the immediate moment and, well...the fact that he was able to be here at all. 

 

He smiled warmly. “You know, despite everything...so am I.” 

 

Varric left then to give her peace and quiet for sleep but it was perhaps all for naught; as soon as he was out of the room the voices flared up again, all of it unintelligible aside from the collective, familiar chant of, “ _ Something’s catching...something’s catching… _ ”  

* * *

 

He heard she had gotten up again eventually, met with her advisors and was otherwise unavailable and out of sight. That was to be expected, what with the Corypheus drama coming to a head and now all of those voices rattling around in her mind off and on. He hoped  _ someone _ around here would be able to teach her how to control it or something; not for everyone else, of course, but for her own sake. 

 

But he wasn’t that person, not by a long shot. 

 

As such, he remained as he usually did, working on his next crap novels and playing Wicked Grace with whoever was willing. One particular evening it was just him, Dorian and Blackwall, three people who really had nothing in common apart from their close friendships with Avecyn. If the latter two men had it their way they’d never spend time together apart from the necessary travels but Varric tried to make a point of being friendly with everyone- everyone who was  _ willing _ anyway. They all loved Wicked Grace and ale, so who could complain? 

 

“Her Worship not joining us this evening?” 

 

It had been the first thing out of Dorian’s mouth, leading Varric to believe he had probably only come in the hopes of seeing her. 

 

“We’re getting down to the wire,” he explained as he shuffled the cards. “She’s got far more important things to do than fritter away her evening with us.” 

 

“I can’t say I envy her,” Dorian mused, taking a leisurely seat at the table. “So much to think about already and now a chorus of voices to complicate matters further.” 

 

Blackwall took a swig of ale and then declared, “She did the right thing. Perish the thought of the witch having all that knowledge.” 

 

“Well, it’s supposed to help the cause either way, provided she can get the squawking under control.” 

 

Varric hoped his attempt to coax meant  _ something _ , not that anyone could blame her for not knowing how to control ancient voices or whatever the hell it was. Time was running out though, so...better sooner than later. 

“I do worry about her though,” Dorian said after a time, his eyes glinting with an intent pointed at Varric. He didn’t look forward to where this line of thought was leading. “She can be...very sentimental. She couldn’t have cared less about that Well or even the  _ world _ after Varric sustained his injury.”

 

“That kind of power should  _ only _ be in the hands of someone who doesn’t want or care much for it in the first place,” Blackwall countered, clearly missing the point. “Compare her to Corypheus and Morrigan who were practically salivating at the mouth. That she was more concerned for one of us than that bloody Well says leagues about her integrity.” 

 

“It wasn’t just  _ one of us _ ,” Dorian corrected. “It was  _ Varric _ , specifically.” 

 

Varric scoffed at the implication. “Oh, come on. She would’ve done the same for either of you two.” 

 

Dorian crossed his arms as if to admit defeat, but it was obvious he was far from finished. 

 

“I suppose we’ll never know for certain. I’m just saying...she has her weaknesses. You know I adore and think the world of her, but I worry that the fate of the  _ actual _ world is in the hands of someone who will easily toss it to the side for...personal concerns.”

 

Blackwall wasn’t convinced. “I’d rather be led by someone who saw the world for the individual lives that make it up, not just the bigger picture.” 

 

Dorian rolled his eyes at him and Varric then felt confident of what he was getting at here; not the philosophical discussion of morals and ethics that Blackwall was mistaking it for, but an attempt to pry at what was going on between him and her. 

 

“We’re not  _ together _ ,” Varric relented. “Not like that. You could’ve just asked.” 

 

Dorian leaned forward,  _ now _ intrigued. “But you see, I think therein lies the problem! You obviously care for each other. This uncertainty between you is less efficient than I think you both flatter yourselves that it is.” 

 

Blackwall was visibly lost now, but as he was kind of superfluous to the conversation both of them ignored him. 

 

“Well, it’s more complicated than that, Sparkler, and if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not get into it-” 

 

“What’s  _ complicated _ about the end of the world?” Dorian demanded to know, now standing up and beating a fist on the table like he was Cullen plotting an attack. “This next move is our last and it  _ may not work _ . Stop thinking in the abstract. We only have now. Would you really want to make your last stand knowing you both hadn’t at least tried?” 

 

Varric stared at him a moment, trying to come up with some other sharp comeback or logical argument as to why he was wrong, but nothing bubbled up. Once again the Tevinter wizard had him bereft of words. 

 

Blackwall added after a time, “...he does make a good point.” 

* * *

  
  


It was the absolute last place in the world she wanted to be right now, staring down Morrigan from a (hopefully) inconspicuous corner of the Skyhold gardens. Had the voices been just a fraction  _ softer _ maybe she would’ve looked for other options or just tried to deal with it or something, but the cacophony raging on right now was too much to bear on her own. Arming herself against the inevitable smug ‘I told you so’ or whatever the Morrigan-equivalent of that was, she made to approach her. 

 

Morrigan wasn’t obtuse, however. 

 

“I know you’re skulking about back there,” she called over. “I was going to give you time to announce yourself and spare a shred of dignity, but we couldn’t have that could we, Inquisitor?” 

 

Avecyn all but dragged her feet over like a child being summoned for a scolding. The situation at hand wasn’t much different. 

 

Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest and smirked in satisfaction. “I can only hope you’re managing better with your newfound knowledge than you do as a rogue.” 

 

“Yeah, well…! It’s not easy to be stealthy when I have a thousand voices whispering creepily at me  _ all the damn time _ .”  

 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Did I not say  _ I _ was the most qualified to bear this burden? I do not speak without reason-” 

 

“ _ Yes _ , okay?!” Avecyn barked, just about on the verge of pulling her hair out. Or Morrigan’s. Maybe both. “You were probably right and I was wrong and you were wrong about the  _ fucking _ mirror so we’re equal and all’s fair. Whatever. It can’t go on the way it’s been. I need help managing all of...this.” 

 

She gestured around her head as if there was a flock of crows pecking away at it or some such thing, which wasn’t too far from how she felt really. Morrigan chuckled, derisive. 

 

“It’s hardly a mystery, Inquisitor. As I’ve observed thus far you are impulsive, reckless and dangerously passionate on a good day. Those aren’t inherently negative traits; a leader must be driven. However, mastering control of this amount of knowledge requires patience and focus. Is there any modicum of that within you at all? I hope for Thedas’ sake you can find it.” 

 

“So, I need to, like...meditate or something?” Avecyn guessed, not really enjoying the roundabout answer. So no, maybe she had no patience after all. “Can you give me some kind of direction?” 

 

“Perhaps the voices can,” Morrigan suggested. “Can you make out anything of the rabble?” 

 

“Yes…!” Even with that small fragment of hope Avecyn felt victorious. “Yes, there’s something I hear repeatedly; ‘something’s catching’...over and over and over again.” 

 

“Common sense, really. There’s something in particular impeding your focus and ability to harness this knowledge. While I’m sure your mind must be...an absolute wasteland of nonsense and distraction, try to recall what has been weighing on you.” 

 

She tried, but it was hard to focus on anything, _ think _ of anything, hard even to hear and understand what Morrigan was saying with the storm of yammering. She closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, did her best to block out what she could but nothing was being accomplished on her own. Just as she was on the verge of giving the whole thing up and starting back from the drawing board, someone joined them in the courtyard. 

 

“Oh...sorry,” Varric apologized. “If I’m interrupting something important I can just catch her later.” 

 

With the sound of his voice came yet another complete, blissful silence. Avecyn sighed loudly in relief. 

 

“No, nothing really. Was just trying to see if Morrigan could lend some insight as to why my mind sounds like a constant pub brawl. Not now though, come to think of it…” She turned to Morrigan, brightening. “Did I do it? Did I focus enough or whatever?” 

 

Morrigan just narrowed her eyes- not angry, more of a realization. 

 

“I very much doubt that. Tell me, when was the  _ last _ time you experienced silence like this?” 

 

“When I first woke up from the Well,” Avecyn replied, confused as to where this was going. “They were there at first...then not.” 

 

Morrigan looked to Varric. “I trust  _ you _ were there, of course.” Not really a question, so he didn’t answer.  

 

“I see,” she continued. “Well, Tethras, it would seem you lend our Inquisitor a stillness that she very sorely needs. Perhaps more time in each other’s company would aid her focus.” 

 

“Ah, so  _ you’re _ my cure then,” Avecyn teased him, though there was a sense of astoundment here too. What did it mean that he could silence her mind just by being around? “That’s...unexpected, but not unwelcome.”

 

“A warning, however,” Because there was always one of those when it came to Morrigan, it seemed. “Don’t keep it too long. The Inquisitor needs answers and she needs them fast. We must remain one step ahead of Corypheus.” 

 

Not really a  _ necessary _ thing to say, Avecyn was always painfully aware of her duty and the lack of time etc., but before she could make a quip about that Morrigan had moved on elsewhere.  _ That _ wasn’t unwelcome either. 

 

“Okay, but first thing’s first,” she said, turning to him. “You came looking for me, what’s going on?” 

 

He looked apprehensive, _ frightened _ even, took her hand in his own and she could tell he was debating something complicated with himself all the while. That unnerved her and she was about to push more into it when he relented with an apologetic smile. 

 

“You know, what it-...I was just checking in on you. Hadn’t seen you in awhile, you know how it is. Turns out that was the best thing I could’ve done.” 

 

Why this answer disappointed her in some measure was hard to pin down; maybe because she  _ knew _ that wasn’t why he came after her, but also knew that whatever it was he’d made the decision not to mention it. There was no swaying him after that. 

 

“She’s right, we’d better go try to get you focused,” he said after a beat, leading her out of the courtyard. “Figure out what the next step is, or...y’know, whatever it’s going to be. I’ll admit, it feels good to be useful.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Well, that was the last time he let Dorian’s advice get to his head. It was probably the last time any of them would do anything, but, y’know...provided the small chance they were successful actually happened. Everything was about that small chance in the end, because regardless of how miniscule it was still worth fighting for, staying  _ focused _ for. As he was apparently the only thing that could do that for her the idea that he was about to come in there and just...spill his guts made him flinch. Thank the Maker Morrigan was there right when she needed to be, with just the right dose of reality to bring him back to full awareness. 

 

Still, Dorian’s point wasn’t without merit. Varric decided to promise himself that if and when they were successful, if and when Corypheus actually died (hoping they got it  _ right _ this time),  _ that’s _ when he would tell her everything. He didn’t expect it to lead anywhere, she’d still have tons to do when the main hurdle was gone and he needed to get back to Kirkwall, but he owed her the truth...if and when they had the luxury. 

 

His help with her focus (which turned out to be an anticlimactic act of just sitting nearby, working on his own matters while she meditated with her thoughts) led them to find Mythal, tame and harness a fucking dragon. Not too bad for doing what he did best. He’d absolutely have to make this a book of its own if they all lived to tell the tale. 

 

Turns out they worked at just the right pace too, as Corypheus wasn’t going to wait around for Josephine and the rest to get their shit together. The huge breach in the sky reopened and summoned her from her Anchor. Because the Inquisition forces were still tied up in the Arbor Wilds it would just be them and him, but Avecyn echoed his sentiments in being so tired of the whole thing that didn’t seem to matter. Live or die, this had to end. 

 

They all traveled to the Valley of Sacred Ashes with nary a word, just a pointed focus on putting this bullshit to rest. The very last thing on Varric’s mind at this point was his own sentimental mess, especially when they got there and Corypheus made his own frustration known by sending the ruins into the sky. Just to make the final showdown  _ interesting _ , he supposed. 

 

But Avecyn was Avecyn and she stopped before advancing to face the three companions that had been by her side through all of this. She addressed each of them individually, with her own realistic sentiment that they may not survive this but that she had come to care for them all and was grateful for the time they had together. Blackwall (or Thom or whatever) and Dorian, either because they really believed it or were just determined to psyche her up, maintained positivity that they’d come out the other side of this victorious. 

 

She came to him last and he intended to deflect the heaviness of the moment with some kind of clever quip as he was wont to do. Whatever he was  _ going _ to say he long ago forgot, as she spoke first. 

 

“Varric. I don’t know if this is the wrong thing to say or the wrong time...but if we die today, it’s not going to matter so I might as well say it.” She took his hands in her own and he suddenly felt more frightened than Corypheus had ever made him. “I’m in love with you. You were right. When it happens, when you find that person, there’s no control. I tried to rationalize and deny it for a long time, but...it is what it is. Only you could ever quiet my mind and help me become the person I have to be. I love you. No matter what comes next, I needed you to know that.” 

 

He was going to say something because one has to say  _ something _ , right? Even if there are no words and the confession was completely unexpected and now his mind was reeling with a thousand voices and thoughts just as hers had. But none of that mattered because she silenced him before he could attempt something clumsy and halfassed with a gentle finger to his lips. 

 

“Don’t. Please. If we survive this, we can figure it all out later. Or when we’re spirits in the fade or...whatever. I don’t need an answer now, I just needed you to know.” 

 

She knelt to kiss his forehead and then reverted back to business before anyone present could wrap their heads around what had just happened. 

 

“Okay,” she said to the lot of them, drawing her daggers. “Let’s go give Asshole a good fight then, shall we?” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just before the showdown to the potential end of the world might NOT have been the best time for a confession of love, but Avecyn is awkward at best when it comes to these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I have as much to say about this one as it's a bit shorter. Only that it may READ as the end but it isn't!! I have more to share about what happens to them after the time jump for Trespasser, etc, and as soon as I can get around to that DLC I WILL WRITE THE THING. Also shout out to Squeegeepooge (am I spelling your SN right?? I'm writing from memory here) for the story idea. I originally had a different thought but it wasn't NEARLY as good. This was so much better, thank you.

And here they were, at the end of all things. Varric still didn’t feel confident they’d come out the other end of this not dead, even with their own personal dragon fighting for them in the sky, but the whole life and death thing paled in comparison to what Avecyn confessed prior to jumping into this. He was kind of... _ pissed _ , honestly? He understood why she said it then, sure, and maybe there was a part of him that wanted to revel in it all starry-eyed and blissed out but he couldn’t now, could he? Would look kind of like an asshole to be on cloud nine while everyone fought for the future of the world. What’s more, how was he supposed to think of anything else when being distracted was the worst possible fucking thing he could be right now?

 

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you when this is over!” he shouted out over Corypheus’ threats to her when she had fallen back to him. “Dead or whatever, I’m coming to kick your ass!”

 

“ _ Touching! _ ”  she screamed back at him, advancing again to launch a set of daggers into Corypheus’ back. He shouted out and threw her several feet in the air and she slid back to him. Only when he confirmed she was okay and getting back to her feet did Varric continue with his verbal onslaught. 

 

“You can’t just... _ tell _ me something like that now and not even give me a chance to reply. Once again your timing is  _ fucking _ impeccable!” 

 

_ Bang _ , Bianca raining arrows into Corypheus’ stupid face. He  _ might _ have been taking out some of his frustration on the fight. 

 

“There  _ wasn’t _ time!” she wiped some blood from the corner of her mouth. “There isn’t time now!” 

 

“I fear she may be right!” Dorian added over the clatter of spell after spell and who asked him to insert his unwarranted opinion in this? “Could we put a pin in this and return to it if we survive?” 

 

“ENOUGH OF YOUR FRIVOLOUS DISCUSSION!” Corypheus of all fucking people boomed out, sending out an earthquake of lyrium in their direction. It left the two of them rolling back once again, but otherwise unharmed. 

 

But Varric was far from done. “I mean, look at where this leaves us,” he sighed as the both of them got their bearings. “Arguing this with an  _ archdemon _ .” 

 

Avecyn rolled her eyes. “ _ Your _ choice, not mine!” 

 

If there was more to be said to this (and there was, make no mistake) it fell to the wayside then...just as their dragon did when Corypheus’ finally kicked its ass for the final time.  _ Some _ guardian; no wonder Mythal had to take refuge in an old witch. 

 

“Well...that’s our dragon gone then,” Dorian helpfully pointed out as the beast landed right smack dab in front of them. Corypheus fucked off then as expected- they were actually kind of making a dent in him for whatever it was worth. 

 

Exactly nill, Varric figured, because he wasn’t sure how the four of them were going to manage to take down a dragon. 

 

“This thing’s going to kill us,” he said, but that didn’t stop Avecyn from rushing the thing, jumping on to it’s head and burying her daggers right in its skull. The beast roared and threw her off, but against all odds she managed to backflip and land on her feet...still cursing from how the impact hurt her ankles. The training paid off some anyway, even if she hadn’t mastered a landing. 

 

“If it wasn’t pissed off before…” And Varric was right because it belched out a firestorm that he had to grab and push her out of the way from. They rolled together to a safe corner of fallen columns as it finished its fire burp. He was grateful to see that Dorian and Blackwall had done similar; none of them could afford to be barbeque right now. 

 

“Look, I never said I was  _ good _ at this sort of thing!” she argued as they waited it out on all fours. “The only way I was ever going to own it was to do it when I didn’t have time to think. Thinking muddles everything. Oh, it’s done.” 

 

She spoke of the dragon who would probably have to take time to cook up another fire blast, which gave her a perfect window. She took advantage of it, once again not leaving him any time to reply as she ran back out, climbed up the thing’s back and skewered it’s head a second time. It roared and made to shake her off so Varric followed her lead; arrows in one eye, arrows in another. The thing was blind now,  _ that _ gave them an advantage. 

 

“Well, maybe  _ I’m _ in love with you too!” he yelled over to her as she struggled to keep purchase while the dragon flailed in pain and shook the ground. “Did you ever think of  _ that _ ? Maybe if you had given me an opportunity to  _ say _ something…!” 

 

She caught his eyes in awe...though it was kind of hard to hold a gaze when trying to keep tethered to a gigantic, angry, blind monster. 

 

“ _ Are _ you though?!?” 

 

And it occurred to him then that she was right; thinking and debating had been the downfall of this whole thing. For him and her, it seemed, this sort of thing had to come when their backs were against the wall and the only thing either of them could say was the truth, however inconvenient it might have been. 

 

“ _ Yes _ !” he replied, and maybe for the first time in his life that was a stone cold honest and raw answer without any attempt to deflect with humor or personal complications. “You think I’m actually going to spout bullshit  _ now _ ?” 

 

Maybe there was a certain freedom in this knowing they were going to die. 

 

“ _ Stay _ focused, both of you!” Blackwall, slicing at any legs that weren’t pounding out an earthquake. 

 

“This isn’t ending because of a  _ fucking _ dragon!” Avecyn decided to all of them and no one in particular, and Varric had to wonder if she was talking about the world or the adventure personal to him and her that they were too stupid to have explored prior to this moment. Either way she was determined, crawled her way up the dragon’s spine and found a soft spot into its brain with her sharpest dagger. 

 

The thing was incapacitated long enough for Blackwall to do a run and jump (he was more limber than Varric gave him credit for it seemed) and slice the dragon’s neck- not exactly beheading it, but enough to cut off any more decisive power. He finished the job after the thing lolled to the side, maybe in some misplaced sense of mercy. 

 

Avecyn collapsed on the scales around the same time, surely relieved. They’d  _ actually _ done that. Or maybe Andraste had seen to it that they did. Either way, it seemed that impossible miracle he’d been joking about finally came through. 

 

“What’s the point of taming a dragon if you just end up having to do the job yourself?” she grumbled after a time, sliding off its wing and stumbling over to Varric. She didn’t bother with kneeling to get to his eye-level, favoring instead to just sort of collapse on her haunches in front of him. 

 

“So...I guess we’re in love then.” She laughed, which normally wouldn’t have been a promising sign after such a declaration but allowances could be made for the unusual situation they found themselves in.  

 

“Well, you said it and _ I  _ said it, so...yeah, I guess we are.” 

 

_ Maker _ , they were fucking awkward was anything but he guessed that was to be expected. He took her blood-spattered face gently in his hands and they just sort of looked at each other and probably a kiss was going to happen here to seal the deal (he did really want to kiss her- properly,  _ romantically _ for the first time, dragon viscera be damned) but, oh yeah, Corypheus was still a thing. 

 

He reminded them of such as he came back in a flurry of agitated screams, but there was no way his frustration matched theirs. 

 

“Okay,” she sighed. “Hold that thought.”

* * *

 

Kicking Corpyheus’ ass was kind of a walk in the park after taking down a dragon, so maybe they should’ve been grateful for that little interlude. Certainly put things into perspective, anyway. Whether advisable or not all Avecyn could think about was just  _ shutting him up _ for good so he wouldn’t be compelled to interrupt another watershed moment between her and Varric. Back to the fade then, be an asshole in there and don’t come back. 

 

Thus it was done and now all that was left was to deal with the somehow even scarier hero’s reception back at Skyhold. Yes, they had saved the world and yes, that was really awesome and unexpected and the cheers were warranted...she just felt like she hadn’t changed. Still as ever Avecyn, too few social graces to be let out during her family’s fancy parties; still the awkward foul-mouthed girl that would rather celebrate this impossible victory alone with her closest friends. 

 

Maybe that’s why the party seemed to suit all but her. It was Thedas’ celebration, they deserved it. She had other things on her mind, matters that were so inconsequential in the big scheme of things but meant everything to her. 

 

What was said during the battle needed to be hashed out, she  _ knew _ this, but fearing the likelihood Varric would’ve reconsidered otherwise outside of a highstakes situation she decided to avoid it and him for just one more night. Just  _ one night _ of savoring that moment they shared before the awkward exchange of why this couldn’t work, just one night of allowing herself to fantasize that maybe it  _ could _ . That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

 

For that reason she attempted to slip away from the party after making the necessary rounds, hoping everyone was too drunk to notice.

 

One person found her however; the one person she only wanted to leave her alone with her dreams. 

 

“So...you’ve been avoiding me,” Varric said, just about making her jump out of her skin from where he’d been leaning in the foyer on the way to her room.  _ How _ had she not seen him? “I don’t even get a cursory ‘thanks for coming’? You really are terrible at this guest of honor thing.”

 

She huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well...some things never change, I guess.”

 

The attempt to deflect with more humor was strong but she knew she had to be honest now. 

 

“Listen, I know-...a lot was said and there’s a ton to figure out, but...if it’s all the same to you I’d kind of like to be alone. Just need a night to pretend everything’s right with the world, you know? I’m sure you get it.”

 

She made to leave him without giving chance to say anything else (Varric always talked too much) but he took her hand. 

 

“Why  _ wouldn’t _ everything be right with the world?” he begged to know. “ _ You _ just saved it. And, as it turns out, we’re in love, so that’s pretty neat, right?” 

 

She studied him, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. It seemed too good to believe that he was still onboard with this. He shook his head and chuckled. 

 

“Come on Stabby, I’ve got something to show you.” 

 

* * *

 

Despite her better judgement, he was sure, she allowed him to take her to her room. He understood; he was probably as scared as she was of this whole thing but enough was enough after a point. If they were going to do this (and he really, really  _ wanted _ to do this) he was going to do it right, as much as he understood that to be. Romance may not have been his forte (if his books were any indication) but he could still light strategically placed candles around her room and get some nice incense burning. She didn’t like flowers so none of that, but the muted sounds of the soft string music he had asked them to play downstairs was just as good. Hopefully. 

 

“Is...all this why I was so good at avoiding at you at the banquet? You were up here this whole time?” 

 

She was amused even as she was still visibly anxious. 

 

“Yeah, about that whole avoiding thing…” He took her hands, bringing her to come sit with him on the bed. “I  _ meant _ what I said. I’m in this now. You’ve...got me a little concerned maybe  _ you’re _ the one having second thoughts.”

 

She laughed but it was broken as she blinked away tears. He could only hope they were an indication of something positive. 

 

He continued, “I know this is a leap; you didn’t believe in it before. I guess it’s asking a lot for you to do it now, but-”

 

She cradled his jaw in her hand, effectively shutting him up. 

 

“That’s the funny thing. It  _ really _ isn’t.” 

 

And maybe at a loss for words or desperation or both they kissed then; a  _ real _ , deep kiss with promises of a future and enough spine-tingling romance to have him crawling on top of her and her leaning back eagerly against the pillows. 

 

“Was sorta hoping to make love to you now,” he confessed, though it was clear she was one step ahead of him as she undid the clasps of his coat. “You know. The real thing.” 

 

She smiled, kissed him deeply again and then said against his lips, “If you don’t, I’ll probably have to kill you.” 

* * *

 

She woke up the next morning as she had every single one prior; sunlight pouring through the window, Leiliana’s crows cackling wildly as they flew by to let her know it was time to get her ass up (not really, but it sure seemed that way sometimes). It was worth it this morning, however; she had no inclination to groan and try in vain for a couple more minutes of sleep when she could instead look over at the desk to see Varric sitting and working there and confirm it all hadn’t just been a really amazing dream. 

 

“Am I  _ that _ boring?” she teased of his work, yawning and stretching, completely blissed out. And  _ not _ because she had just saved the world or anything.

 

“You?  _ Boring _ ?” he smirked, leaving said work behind to join her again on the bed. “The chick who yelled out ‘Watch this guys!’ and tried to jump off a Skyhold balcony? I’d have to have a pretty skewed view of  _ boring  _ to think that and you know damn well I don’t.” 

 

She giggled and slapped an arm over her eyes in embarrassment. 

 

“In my defense I was pretty drunk at the time.” 

 

“Hardly a good one though.” He caressed her thigh through the blanket and she found herself wishing the fabric wasn’t there. Despite the lighthearted nature of their banter she could tell something was troubling him, something he was having a hard time working up the nerve to mention and that was enough to make her sit up in concern. 

 

“Hey,” she said, taking his hand. “Why the weird face? I think we both deserve to be a little stupid-happy today, don’t you?” 

 

“Oh, I  _ am _ . It’s just…” He sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes. “This is really, really shitty timing, but the goons in Kirkwall are on my case. I’m already getting letters and we _ just  _ sewed up the sky. I think I’m due back there before too long.” 

 

She tilted her head in confusion, wondering what he was getting at. “If you’re trying to break up with me after a six hour relationship-”

 

“What? No! You seriously thought-?” 

 

Avecyn wrapped her arms around him, apologetic, and said into his hair, “I’m  _ sorry _ ! I didn’t know what to think.”

 

He rubbed her arm comfortingly and pressed a kiss to the inside of her elbow. 

 

“No, it’s  _ nothing _ like that. I’d just kinda hoped to spend more time with you. You know...enjoy each other’s company without that crap looming over my head. I’ve got nothing against long distance relationships, I just didn’t want to have to put you in that position so soon into things.” 

 

“Well, I don’t have anything against them either,” she soothed. “Maybe in another life we would’ve met as pen pals to begin with, who knows? I think I like starting things off this way a little better though.” 

 

He laid them both down, back against the pillows and agreed to her sentiment with a long, lazy kiss. 

 

“Maybe I don’t have to go right away,” he suggested, his hand coasting down to her hip. “All the really important stuff is done, right? Kirkwall politics can wait a bit longer.” 

 

“Hmmm, I like the way you think.” 

 

For now, that was enough. Nothing else had to exist in the world but the both of them and the peaceful, marred morning sky that spoke of what they had done. The whole thing felt like a lifetime ago now which, honestly...they were kind of grateful for. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years since the breach was closed and Corypheus defeated; a lull of peace leads everyone to believe that maybe the worst is over. A visit to the Exalted Council, however, changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated including this chapter in this story or branching it off as its own piece since it's rather far away from how the story began. Still, it's part of the Avecyn/Varric saga so I figured the Trespasser continuance belonged here where there was context rather than a stand-alone. This chapter is shorter, it came to a natural close at about 3,500+ words so...here we are. Having JUST finished Trespasser IT'S TIME FOR SHIT TO GET REAL.

**_Two years later…_ **

 

Their choosing to show up to this thing with two babies strapped to their backs was met with some amount of polite confusion. Not that anyone present wasn’t aware the Viscount and Viscountess of Kirkwall (or Inquisitor, as she was known to  _ some _ ) had six months ago welcomed twins into the world, it was just their choice to actually  _ bring _ them that caused some raised eyebrows. Of course, it should have been expected; Varric and Avecyn were never one for orthodoxy and that wasn’t about to change just for an Exalted Council. 

 

“Oh, you’ve brought the twins…!” Josephine had exclaimed upon seeing them, trying her  _ best _ to be polite and maybe on some level elated, but also, Varric guessed, experiencing simultaneous anxiety visions of those children spitting up on a noble or something. That fear wasn’t unfounded, to be fair. 

 

“We also brought their nurse,” Avecyn assured, gesturing to a very excited Tibby in their entourage. They hadn’t had to interview very many potential nurses before getting to her, an apple-cheeked, bubbly and maternal applicant whose passion in life happened to be caring for children (a necessity for any nurse, of course). She was essentially Harding without the armor (but every bit of the gruff, when called upon). They all adored her and figured she deserved the experience of visiting Val Royeaux too. The look of constant awe on her face at all the decked out nobles and towering Winter Palace was assurance enough they’d done right by her. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking, Ruffles,” Varric added with a knowing smirk. “They won’t get in the way, that’s a Viscount’s promise. There’s just a lot of people we’d like them to meet and Maker knows when we’ll all be in the same place again.”  

 

A sobering reality, to be sure. They didn’t hold it against anyone for not being able to make their various invitations to Kirkwall since the birth. Unless the world was once again teetering on the precipice of disaster there were more important things to tend to in their respective, chaotic lives. They  _ had _ to understand; it’d be hypocritical not to. 

 

Satisfied with the precautions they’d taken, Josephine was free to ask, “Can...I hold them? Or one of them? Or...both, one at a time.” 

“Of course!” Avecyn undid the sling on her shoulder and passed the baby over with an unceremonious plop into Josephine’s arms, barely giving her time to set down her work. “This is Adi. She’s already been burped, so I think your outfit is safe.”

 

Josephine smiled in thanks, though a bit trepidatious. Her arms didn’t seem used to the weight of a Dwarf/Human baby but, then again, whose were?

 

“I’d hand over Velda…” Varric said. “But she’s a biter and already has four of her sharpest teeth poking through. Best to find her teething ring first.”

 

Avecyn nodded. “We  _ both _ have the scars to prove it. Darkspawn have nothing on this one.”   

 

Josephine managed a nervous laugh. Varric was interested to see how she’d talk her way out of it. 

* * *

  
  


“Darling! How  _ are _ you? It’s been a millenia at least!”

 

To hell with the various nobles and ambassadors circling him; the moment Dorian saw Avecyn they all might as well have been invisible. They embraced for a long time, which included a gallant twirl on his part, sweeping her off her feet. She had missed him  _ so much  _ and it was nice to know that, despite their distance and schedules, nothing had changed. Still, as ever, only the best of friends. 

 

“And  _ where _ are the two bundles of screams and poo?” he asked when they finally parted. “When you mentioned in your letter you’d be bringing them along I could hardly contain my excitement.”

 

Avecyn chuckled in disbelief. “I didn’t take you for a baby sort of person. They’re with the nurse. Or possibly being passed around, taught how to throw daggers, that sort of wholesome fun.” 

 

“You’re absolutely right, I’m  _ not _ . My morbid curiosity wanted to see what kind of ball of furry energy you and Varric would conjure up. That, and I was hoping to see at least one of them spit up or something on the Orlesian ambassador.” 

 

“The day is still young, you may get your wish.” 

 

He bid her to come join him on a nearby lounge, complete with beverages which she was sorely in need of after a long trip with two needy twins. 

 

“And how was the wedding?” Dorian asked, a bit of an edge to his voice as he took a sip of his drink. “I have to ask, of course, because I did not seem to merit an invitation.” 

 

Avecyn laughed at his misplaced offense. “No one did, unless you count the Seneschal and Magistrate. How easy would it have been for you to get to Kirkwall in an evening’s time?” 

 

She then explained the whole story, though not as well as Varric would have. She had been spending more and more time in Kirkwall as their relationship found its footing, bearing witness to Varric’s unintentional rise to power as Viscount. Not caring much for rules, but a great deal for  _ her _ , he decided a fitting present on her birthday would be a title as Comtess and her own estate; it was the least Kirkwall could do for the world’s savior, right? Bran, former interim Viscount and lover of all things ‘by the book’ wasn’t having it however, and as that evening Varric was on a special level of being fed up with his shit the impulsive was bound to happen. Bran made the mistake of mentioning the loophole that the Viscount could only grant land and titles without counsel to one he was legally espoused to under Kirkwall laws. That led to Varric pounding his fist on the table and yelling back at him, “Well I  _ guess _ we’re getting married then!”    

 

“Yeah, we’ll get married  _ right now! _ ” Avecyn added. “You gonna try to stop us,  _ Bran? _ ”  

 

“Well, no…! But-...!” 

 

Varric took her hand. “Good, then you can be witness. TO THE MAGISTRATE’S OFFICE!”

 

They hadn’t even _ spoken _ of any marriage potential to that point; still, standing there and saying vows in an impromptu ceremony initiated only for the cause of pissing someone off felt...right. It couldn’t have been more perfect or romantic. 

 

“There was some tug of war with the Magistrate about garnering a license and ceremony in the same hour,” Avecyn explained to Dorian after finishing the tale (and her drink). “But exceptions were made because, y’know...Viscount.” 

 

Dorian laughed in his throat. “I might have guessed that’s how it happened. Pity, I do so love a proper wedding; drinks, handsome men looking for a night’s fun.”

 

Avecyn raised a quizzical eyebrow. “It’s  _ Kirkwall _ , Dorian. I don’t think you’re going to find much more than some drunk sailors that look like ogres and smell like fish.”

 

They both made to share a chortle at that but the relative peace of the moment was broken by her Anchor suddenly buzzing with sparks. She cursed at the white hot pain she’d gotten used to now- also at the fact that this had made her drop and spill her second drink completely. 

 

“What the blazes was  _ that _ ?” Dorian shifted closer and inspected her hand with care. “Are you alright?” 

 

She hissed a little as the charge dissipated back down to nothing. “Yeah...yeah, I’m fine. The Anchor’s just been kind of a bitch lately. I’m not sure why.” 

 

“That  _ can’t _ be a good thing, surely.” 

 

“You don’t say.” 

* * *

  
  


The twins, as it turns out, were  _ not _ with Tibby but rather being passed around either enthusiastically or not-so by their various Inquisition friends. Varric never imagined he’d be a hovering father (he hadn’t until about a year ago thought he’d ever be a father  _ at all _ , but here he was) but considering the various ways said friends responded to babies he felt it was for the best. Iron Bull had brought them a gift: an axe fit only for a huge Qunari warrior, likely one of his old ones. He placed it before them with a proud explanation of, “Now they’ll have what they need to be _ true  _ warriors. I’m sorry, I would’ve brought one for each, didn’t realize she’d popped out two.” 

 

“Hey, it’s fine, great present, buddy, thanks!” Varric assured, before moving the damn thing far out of the way of little pudgy hands as soon as his back was turned. Sera, on the other hand, chose to teach them how to perch on her back and launch arrows from her shoulders which...he supposed was  _ fitting _ , all things considered, but at the same time…

 

“Let’s wait until they’re  _ walking _ before giving them weapons, maybe.” It seemed as soon as he confiscated the axe, it was on to a bow. What was next? Swords? Bombs? All of the above?

 

“ _ Stupid _ ,” Sera scoffed. “The best time to teach them is when they’re babies; their little muscles are all pliable and mold-y. Not the stinky kind, the clay kind. They’re like little balls of clay. Then again, I suppose you’ll just give them something with a trigger.” 

 

“Probably,” he sighed, handing the both of them over to Tibby before they could grab any more arrows. He didn’t really feel like arguing this now. 

 

Sera bounced over to him then and said under her breath, “Unrelated; is it just me or does Avie’s hand look...weirder than usual? Nastier?” 

 

She’d always had a way with words. Of course he had to remember she just spoke out of concern, not with an attempt to prod something that had been bothering him more than he’d been letting on. 

 

“Nope, not just you. The Anchor’s been...I don’t know, we’ve been calling them flare-ups. Sometimes there’s nothing, sometimes it’s just some lingering static...later it’ll be a shocking pain that goes up her arm for a minute or so.”

 

Sera frowned. “That can’t be good.” 

 

Varric resisted the urge to respond with something sarcastic to deflect the gravity of the situation because yeah,  _ obviously _ . 

 

“I mean, who knows, it’s not like there’s a precedent for this sort of thing. Could be completely normal for Anchor arm- which still  _ sucks _ , don’t get me wrong.” 

 

“But it-...didn’t used to happen before…” 

 

He’d been looking for an out to the conversation because Sera pointing out all the nagging thoughts that had already occurred to him was doing nothing positive for his anxiety; all things considered, he hadn’t really wanted that ‘out’ to be Cole staring at/studying Velda for Maker knows what reason. Not that he didn’t love the kid extremely, but he wasn’t clambering to ask him to babysit any time soon either. Also, Velda’s  _ teeth _ ...

 

“This one has a lot of Avecyn’s aggression in her,” Cole observed when Varric swooped her up. 

 

“Yeah, no kidding. Watch your limbs.” 

 

Cole displayed a bleeding finger that showed no sign of bothering him. “She already got me.” 

 

“You’re going to want to have that seen to. Disinfected, probably.”

 

About then the chimes for the start of the council rang out;  _ hopefully _ also the start of a new, less stressful way forward for all of them but Varric was never so optimistic. 

* * *

  
  


In truth, she didn’t want to be here. With the relative peace that had spanned the last couple of years she’d been free to spend most of her days in Kirkwall, relishing the unexpected marital bliss...and the unexpected twins that came as a result of that (apparently a Dwarf  _ can _ get a human pregnant, who knew). She had never in a million years envisioned herself as a wife and mother, never thought it’d make her anything but miserable. Maybe it was the added purpose and responsibilities of serving as Viscountess of Kirkwall alongside her husband, maybe it was the fact that she’d just met the right person, but either way, for the first time in her life, she was sincerely happy and fulfilled. More importantly it was a life she had  _ chosen _ , not one that had been thrust upon her by fate. 

 

As such, being back here listening to the Fereldan and Orlesian nobles whinge about how awful the Inquisition was after they had put their lives on the line to save the world was...exhausting. Far more exhausting than the anchor flare-ups. It was all she could do to stop herself from flipping the fucking table, announcing the Inquisition’s end and telling them all to piss off and wave their dicks around to someone else, someone who _ cared _ . Honestly, what was the point anymore? She just wanted to go home to Kirkwall. 

 

For now, Josie’s eager expression flitting back between her notes, her Inquisitor and the demanding nobles was all that was keeping her in line. A hard decision would have to be made eventually and Avecyn knew where  _ she  _ stood, but she had to play by the book and not throw all her Ambassador’s (more importantly, her  _ friend’s _ ) hard work by the wayside. Varric had also said before they left that he’d support her in whatever she choose to standby, after many late night rants and occasional tears of frustration. His supportive smile from the observation stands reminded her as such; that said, she couldn’t imagine he’d condone her table-flipping fantasy either. She still had to defend the integrity of what they had all worked for, so there was  _ that _ . 

 

She did as much, playing the role of good Inquisitor and reminding everyone that,  _ hello _ , they did just pull everyone’s fat from the fire. The occasional quip weaseled in, however, like reminding Fereldan’s Arl that they were only doing the job he couldn’t have been fucked to do himself. Josie didn’t approve but it was the best she was going to get; she must have realized as much from the resigned sigh that slipped out afterwards. 

 

More of this went on...and on...and on. She was so relieved to have the Elven Inquisition officer come whisper that there was something that required her immediate attention that she didn’t take any time to wonder if this was suspicious. A last ditch passive-aggressive move was not even bothering to excuse herself, but rather just getting up and following said officer out without a word. 

 

The offended gasps and exclamations that resulted were satisfying enough. She reveled in that until she was led to the source of the interruption; a random dead Qunari warrior slumped against the palace wall, trailed by blood. No one could provide an explanation. That was disturbing enough, but nothing to strike horror and panic in her as Tibby did, running in on the scene cut up and bruised. 

 

“The twins…!” she cried out, gripping to Avecyn. “I’m so sorry, my Lady, I did all that I could-...!”

 

She had no patience in her to respect that her beloved nurse was battered and terrified.

 

“Where  _ are _ they?” Avecyn demanded to know, gripping her as one would an unruly interrogation subject. “Where are they, dammit?!” 

 

“....gone! Kidnapped…! I tried to fight him-...it, whatever it was! I tried, my Lady, I tried…! They were taken…!” 

 

Leiliana managed to get hold of Avecyn as Cullen gently escorted Tibby away to comfort and find out more. 

 

“No…!” she cried out, struggling against the Divine’s powerful grip. “No, I’ve got to find them! I’ve got to go now…!” 

 

Leiliana continued to restrain against the Inquisitor’s twisting and attempted punches until she could do no more and sank to the ground, defeated, sobbing. 

 

* * *

 

It was like a punch in the gut when he was told what happened;  _ worse _ than, somehow. His instinct had been similar to what Avecyn’s had apparently been, to fight everyone in the room until they let him leave to frantically search for his missing children. Only being told how she had responded was enough to ground him; that and Leiliana’s level-headed accounts of what  _ she _ believed to be going on. They had tracked the blood trail to an Eluvian and believed this was all part of a much bigger, more sinister plot. 

 

The only other thing that kept him tethered to any kind of rational thought was Leiliana’s assurance she didn’t believe the kidnapper meant to  _ hurt _ the twins, not yet; if that had been their motive they would’ve done it and left them dead rather than leave with them both. From one spymaster to another, it made sense. 

 

Still, he couldn’t imagine he’d ever feel at peace with anything until they were safely returned. If it was someone’s intent to get a reaction out of them, to spur them on to action, they knew just where to strike the blow. 

 

It had also been passed along to him that Avecyn had to be sedated with an elixir temporarily, just until her nerves could stem. They had left her resting in the guest wing of the Palace. Varric couldn’t imagine it would do much,  _ especially _ when she woke up, but he figured he might be able to reason with her. He’d have to be strong for them both, no matter how difficult that prospect seemed laid out before him. 

 

The only thing he  _ could _ do now was wait by her bedside until she stirred, which took a couple of hours, much anxious pacing on his part and well-meaning offers from friends to take over for a bit so he could rest. How was he supposed to sleep now? Anyway, she could’ve woken up at any minute and he didn’t want her to be faced with anyone but himself. 

 

Finally, as night fell, she woke up again, stirred by a slight jolt from her anchor. He sat with her on the edge of the bed as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. For a brief, blissful moment after seeing him it seemed she was keen to believe the whole thing had been a bad nightmare and that they were back home and all was well. The ornate Orlesian metal on the bedpost, illuminated by the treacherous glow of the moon, made her realize the nightmare only continued. 

 

“The twins…” she hissed in a foggy haze, gripping to his arm. 

 

“It’s alright,” he soothed, despite the situation being anything but. Sometimes lies were necessary. “It’s alright, take it easy.” 

 

She tried to pull herself up but the elixir still left her woozy and weak. This only made her more frustrated however, and she began to fight with the blankets as much as her limbs would allow. 

 

“Hey, hey, come on…” It was easy to get control of her when her strength was only at a fourth of its power. “Settle down and we can talk.” 

 

Having given up the futile effort she fell back in rising tears. “The twins…! They’re gone, someone took them….!” 

 

“I know.” He caressed her hair and laid against her, partially to comfort but also to provide a deterrent weight. “Leiliana told me.”

 

“We have to find them-...! We have to-...” 

 

He wiped her tears from her cheek with his thumbs. 

 

“We  _ will _ , okay? I promise. We’re  _ going  _ to find them.” 

 

“What if something’s happened…?” He hadn’t ever seen her at this level of distraught and anguished. “What if they’re hurt…? What if-” 

 

“You gotta stop with the ‘what ifs’. Leiliana already told me if someone meant to hurt them, they would have. Kidnappings like this don’t happen unless someone wants leverage and they’re not going to get that by harming them. Okay? Are you listening?” 

 

She nodded, sniffing up tears. He knew she didn’t really have another choice, but that was probably for the best. He kissed her forehead. 

 

“We just have to figure out who it is and what they want,” he continued. “Nothing’s going to happen to them. Honestly...I’m more worried for whatever dumb bastard willingly risked Velda’s bite.” 

 

He didn’t know if it was a poor time for deflective humor and maybe it was just the effects of the elixir talking but he got a weak smile out of her from that. It was victory enough. 

 

“She might do all the work for us,” Avecyn ventured. “Just...bite the fucker’s heart out or something.” 

 

Varric laughed, though it was solemn. “Yeah, maybe. She’s your daughter, she’s bound to at least try.” 

 

Avecyn managed to sit up, though this time it was without that aggressive need to fly off in a panic and kill someone. He kept her in his arms.

 

“Why would someone do this…?” It wasn’t really a question, they both knew the root cause even if they didn’t know the motive or person responsible. He didn’t want to be the asshole that provided an unnecessary explanation that wouldn’t have given any comfort anyway, so he didn’t. 

 

“Doesn’t really matter,” he sighed after a time. “Because we’ll find them, we’ll kill them and we’ll get our babies back.” 

 

She gripped his arm again and folded herself around him. The rest of the evening before they both managed to fall uneasily into slumber was spent this way, holding each other so tight in fear that what remained of the things they loved would disappear just as quickly. 

 


End file.
